emanuellevinas
Experienced
- Joined
- May 21, 2011
- Posts
- 40
Mary loved her job. She really did. The hours sometimes dragged on. She worked late and often wanted to just be wrapped up on her couch reading, the one she loved more than anything was the feel of a book in her hands, a fireplace, her dog closeby.
It was Tuesday. 9 p.m. was approaching. Soon, it would be time to lock up and head out.
Just a little longer. Fifteen minutes or so.
No one much was in the library, at least not in her section. It was dark outside, getting dark inside.
A lone woman sat reading in a far corner, taking notes. In her own little world.
Someone had come into a thick section of stacks earlier. He looked a little rough, not really her style. Unshaven. An oxford untucked. Longer hair. He looked to be her age.
She was not sure where he was, anymore. He had probably left without her noticing. But she is pretty sure she would have noticed. There was something about him that made her pay attention, take notice.
She started thinking about her home life. It was relatively uneventful. Not a lot of romance, even though her boyfriend was perfectly respectable. They had fallen into something of a rut. She patted her skirt, noticed her legs. She was trim. Five years out of college. Dark, dark brown hair. Glasses that she liked. She noticed that her skirt had crept up a little bit. Her blouse’s buttons were tight.
She decided to get up. There was an uneasiness about her. She was a little tingling for no good reason.
---
She found him in the stacks, pulling one book out after another. He was not her type. She kept reminding herself. This is not my type. This is not my type.
But there was something about the way he carried himself. He looked at her, longingly.
“I’ve noticed you before. I like the way you look. What is your name?”
He spoke with such authority and confidence that she just answered him.
It was 9. Everyone was gone. She walked toward him.
“It is time for you to leave.”
“Yes, I imagine it is. Come with me.”
They walk to his Jetta wagon. They slide into the front and begin to talk.
He asks her all kinds of questions. She is amazed that she answers and asks him questions. They talk as if they’ve known each other forever.
He starts the car and drives to the local Hampton Inn.
“What are we doing?” Mary asks.
“You’ll see.”
--
He pulls out some oil, some lotion.
--
They kiss.
--
He takes off her blouse. Pulls down her skirt.
--
He kisses her. Puts her on her stomach.
Kisses her shoulderblade. Kisses down her spine.
She has no idea what she is doing here or why but it feels to good to stop.
--
He puts oil on his finger. Kisses her lower back.
It was Tuesday. 9 p.m. was approaching. Soon, it would be time to lock up and head out.
Just a little longer. Fifteen minutes or so.
No one much was in the library, at least not in her section. It was dark outside, getting dark inside.
A lone woman sat reading in a far corner, taking notes. In her own little world.
Someone had come into a thick section of stacks earlier. He looked a little rough, not really her style. Unshaven. An oxford untucked. Longer hair. He looked to be her age.
She was not sure where he was, anymore. He had probably left without her noticing. But she is pretty sure she would have noticed. There was something about him that made her pay attention, take notice.
She started thinking about her home life. It was relatively uneventful. Not a lot of romance, even though her boyfriend was perfectly respectable. They had fallen into something of a rut. She patted her skirt, noticed her legs. She was trim. Five years out of college. Dark, dark brown hair. Glasses that she liked. She noticed that her skirt had crept up a little bit. Her blouse’s buttons were tight.
She decided to get up. There was an uneasiness about her. She was a little tingling for no good reason.
---
She found him in the stacks, pulling one book out after another. He was not her type. She kept reminding herself. This is not my type. This is not my type.
But there was something about the way he carried himself. He looked at her, longingly.
“I’ve noticed you before. I like the way you look. What is your name?”
He spoke with such authority and confidence that she just answered him.
It was 9. Everyone was gone. She walked toward him.
“It is time for you to leave.”
“Yes, I imagine it is. Come with me.”
They walk to his Jetta wagon. They slide into the front and begin to talk.
He asks her all kinds of questions. She is amazed that she answers and asks him questions. They talk as if they’ve known each other forever.
He starts the car and drives to the local Hampton Inn.
“What are we doing?” Mary asks.
“You’ll see.”
--
He pulls out some oil, some lotion.
--
They kiss.
--
He takes off her blouse. Pulls down her skirt.
--
He kisses her. Puts her on her stomach.
Kisses her shoulderblade. Kisses down her spine.
She has no idea what she is doing here or why but it feels to good to stop.
--
He puts oil on his finger. Kisses her lower back.
(not sure what you're aiming for-- she was uneasy & felt tingly-- a little out of the blue, needs more set up so its not so jarring for the reader)
